Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning, Jo noticed something was off before she’d even finished her first cup of coffee.
Kevin had beaten her to the station—unusual for him.
He was already at his desk, staring at his computer screen with the kind of intensity that suggested he wasn’t actually seeing it.
When Wyatt walked in ten minutes later, Kevin’s head came up.
Just for a second. Just long enough for Jo to catch the look that passed between them.
Not friendly. Not hostile either. Something else. Wary.
“Sleep okay?” Kevin asked. The question was casual. The tone wasn’t.
“Fine.” Wyatt didn’t look up as he dropped into his chair. “You?”
“Not really.” Kevin’s jaw tightened. “Computer trouble. Had to kill my internet last night.”
Something flickered across Wyatt’s face—there and gone so fast Jo almost missed it. He pulled up his usual screens, fingers moving mechanically. “That sucks. Virus?”
“Something like that.”
The silence stretched. Lucy padded over to Wyatt and settled at his feet, but even she seemed unsettled—head up, ears swiveling, watching the room like she expected trouble.
Major dropped from his perch on the filing cabinet and wound between desks until he reached Wyatt’s chair.
The cat sat and stared up at him with those unnervingly intelligent eyes, tail flicking slowly.
Wyatt ignored him. Major didn’t seem to care—he just kept watching, like he knew something no one else did.
Jo filed it away. Kevin knew something. Wyatt knew Kevin knew something. And neither of them was talking.
Shaw arrived mid-morning with Shadow, coffee cups balanced in a cardboard carrier.
The moment Shadow walked through the door, Lucy’s head came up. Her tail started wagging before Shaw had even reached the desks. Shadow’s ears pricked forward, and when Shaw unclipped his leash, he made straight for Lucy.
The two dogs touched noses, then settled together near Wyatt’s desk—Lucy pressing her shoulder against Shadow’s side, Shadow’s tail sweeping the floor in slow, content wags. Whatever mysterious connection they shared, it hadn’t faded.
“Thought you could use these,” she said, setting one on Kevin’s desk, another on Jo’s, the third on Wyatt’s.
It was a small gesture—the kind that built trust. Jo had seen it before, back when she was working undercover. The way you made yourself useful, made yourself part of the team, so people stopped watching you so closely.
She thanked Shaw and took a sip. The coffee was good. Strong. Exactly how she liked it.
Major had retreated to the top of the filing cabinet when Shadow entered. Now he sat rigid, green eyes fixed on the German Shepherd with feline disdain. Shadow glanced up at him once, then dismissed him entirely, turning his attention back to Lucy.
“Any progress on the Cooper connection?” Shaw asked, settling into an empty chair.
“Still working through the business records you sent over,” Kevin said. “Some of these companies have shell corporations layered three deep.”
“That’s their playbook.” Shaw nodded. “Follow the money far enough and it always leads back to the same places. Takes patience.”
Jo watched her over the rim of her cup. Shaw was good—attentive, knowledgeable, genuinely helpful. She’d shared more intel in three days than Keller had since he arrived. But there was something underneath it. Something Jo couldn’t quite name.
Shaw asked a lot of questions. About the department. About the team. About cases that weren’t directly related to Cooper’s murder. She framed them casually—just making conversation, getting the lay of the land—but Jo had been a cop long enough to recognize an interrogation when she was in one.
“How long has Wyatt been with the department?” Shaw asked now, glancing toward his empty desk. He’d stepped out a few minutes ago, muttering something about needing air. Lucy had stayed behind with Shadow, the two dogs curled together like old friends.
“Couple years,” Jo said. “Why?”
Shaw shrugged. “Just curious. He’s good with the digital side. Seems like he could work anywhere.”
“He likes it here.” Jo kept her voice neutral. “Small town. Quiet.”
“Quiet.” Shaw smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not so quiet lately.”
Jo didn’t respond. She just filed that away too.
That afternoon, Keller returned with his paperwork.
He knocked on Sam’s door before entering—something Jo noted. When she’d first met him, he’d walked into rooms like he owned them. Now he was softer around the edges. More careful.
“More specific this time,” Sam said, flipping through the request. “These case numbers I can work with.”
“We’ve identified potential connections between the Cooper investigation and several older narcotics cases.” Keller’s voice was tired but professional. “Not asking for blanket access. Just what’s on the list.”
“Alright. Supervised access. Wyatt, you’re up.”
Wyatt had just returned to his desk, a little pale, a little too quiet. He looked up at the sound of his name. “Sure. I know the archive system.”
Jo watched him follow Keller toward the basement stairs. Something about the set of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw. He was dreading this, but not for the reasons anyone would expect.
Her instincts were screaming now. Wyatt was hiding something. Kevin knew something he wasn’t sharing. Shaw was running her own investigation inside their investigation.
And somewhere in the middle of it all was a dead FBI agent and a syndicate that killed people who got too close.
Jo finished her coffee and stood, she needed fresh air to think.
She stepped around the corner of the station and stopped short.
Shaw was there. Standing near the far corner, phone raised, pointed at the station’s back entrance.
Taking pictures.
Jo stopped. Shaw didn’t see her—she was focused on her phone, scrolling through something, then raising it again for another shot.
“Documenting something?”
Shaw turned, and for just a fraction of a second, something crossed her face. Surprise, maybe. Or calculation. Then it was gone, replaced by an easy smile.
“Just routine,” Shaw said, pocketing the phone. “Establishing shots. Building layout, entrances, exits. Standard procedure when we’re working a case in an unfamiliar location.”
“Didn’t realize that was standard.”
“Old habit from my training.” Shaw’s voice was light, unconcerned. “You never know what details might matter later.”
It was a reasonable explanation. The kind of thing that would make perfect sense if Jo hadn’t spent fifteen years reading people.
Shaw was lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth.
“Sam know you’re doing this?” Jo asked.
“Didn’t think I needed to clear it.” Shaw tilted her head slightly. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem.” Jo kept her expression neutral. “Just curious.”
They stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them. Two people who recognized what the other was doing and were deciding how to play it.
“I should get back,” Shaw said finally. “Shadow’s probably wondering where I went.”
She walked past Jo without hurrying, footsteps steady on the pavement. Jo watched her go, then looked at the corner where Shaw had been standing. Good angle on the back entrance. Clear view of the parking lot where the vehicles were parked. The police vehicles, their personal cars, Keller’s car.
Not random. Not routine.
Shaw was watching something. Or someone.
Jo just didn’t know what yet.